Amends for the Past
by uxy827
Summary: Oneshot. Long after the Titans disband, Rachel lives a peaceful, normal, anonymous life, exactly what she wanted. Things change when a vigilante from a previous time comes to town, seeking closure for their mistakes from before.


The job was practically the conglomeration of the most boring qualities in the world. A secretary, whose roles were to file paperwork, usher clients through, and change out the coffee filters and waste baskets. Not only that, but a secretary for an insurance headquarters, and a nondescript, generic one at that. The building was located in the financial district of the city, which was notorious for its lack of color and uniformity.

For Rachel, the purple-haired veteran of the job, it was a match made in heaven. The woman, who was probably somewhere in her late twenties or early thirties, almost acted like she was born from the position itself. She kept herself neat but bland, showed up to work at the same time every day, and did her work with little to no comments to her coworkers, clients, or managers. She would break for lunch at noon, usually taking bites from a salad while reading the newspaper, then return promptly at one and work until five. Afterwards, she would take the subway back to her apartment half an hour away, and usually spend the rest of the night reading or occasionally go out for a walk. Nobody knew if she had friends outside of work, what kinds of hobbies she enjoyed besides reading, or what she did on the weekends. She was polite with coworkers and could make small talk, but usually went back to her work after the conversation stalled.

On this particular day, Rachel had come in 15 minutes before like she always did, setting down her materials at the desk and scanning through the day's responsibilities. She opened up a file cabinet, sorting through the various documents and meticulously selecting the ones that would be needed for meetings later.

"Morning, Rachel!" a man greeted. She looked up and smiled courteously as the tall, dark-haired manager walked by.

"Good morning, Spencer," she returned. Spencer stopped at the desk, setting down his cup of coffee and a newspaper.

"Been a lot of crime around these parts lately," he mentioned casually. "Best be careful commuting to and from here."

"I should be fine during the day."

"Yeah, well, hopefully the city gets its act together soon," he commented. "Heard they just brought in a new police chief. Old one just sat around all day and ate donuts."

"Interesting," she hummed. Spencer picked up his things and disappeared into another room, while she kept her eyes on the computer monitor.

The morning went by like all the other mornings Rachel worked. Check in clients who had meetings, direct businessmen to their meetings, file more paperwork and enter data. She wasn't particularly bored ever since she approached work with so much obliviousness to begin with. Noon came and she pulled out her lunchbox from underneath the desk, briskly walking to the lounge and sitting down at the table facing the TV. It seemed that her coworkers had gone out to eat today, so she would have the lounge to herself. Rachel turned on the TV, flipping it to a news channel as she stuck her fork in some lettuce.

"We could be seeing two more devastating hurricanes form as early as next week," the weatherman announced as Rachel gazed at the screen with slight disinterest. "All people in affected areas, please stay safe and make preparations."

"Thank you. And now, we bring you live to the press conference of our city's newest police chief…" the anchor continued, picking up the commentary. The scene switched to a conference room, where a muscular, confident-looking man in a uniform was surrounded by reporters and fellow officers. Rachel narrowed her eyes, peering closely at him. The style of hair…the posture…it couldn't be. Her eyes shot down to the caption as she scanned it intently. _Richard Grayson introduced as new Head of Police Department._

It was at this moment that Rachel felt something she hadn't in a long time. First, the denial. There was no way it could be the same one. Then, the anxiety. What if it was? Was it a coincidence? Or was he here with a purpose? Then, the anger. If he really was here for his own…purposes, he would have to try a lot harder than just disguising himself like this.

"I assure you, from my years of experience, as well as my intel on this department, I have the utmost confidence that all this city needs is to come down a little harder with the hammer on crime," he told reporters.

"Mr. Grayson, Samantha Stark with the Times," another reporter barged in. "Rumor has it you were a star in academy and in your first department. People say you've had prior training before joining the police force. Can you confirm this?"

"Miss, there's nothing much to it," he laughed. "I guess I'm just a quick learner, that's all." He took more questions from the press and Rachel couldn't help but be transfixed to the screen, observing his movements rather than listening to his words. Finally, she reached for the remote and turned the TV off. Her half-eaten salad, usually finished by this point, sat in front of her. She slowly put the remote back, then snorted to herself. This didn't change anything. Her life would still be the same regardless of how close or far away he was. The shadows always offered the most safety.

Rachel retreated to her apartment after work, a small residence on the sixth floor of the building. She read through the morning's newspaper first, skipping the sports and opinion sections and reading through the politics and business sections thoroughly. She didn't have strong opinions on any current events, but it was always good to stay informed. For dinner, the woman cooked up some simple stir-fry for herself, eating only a portion of it and saving the rest for leftovers. The rest of the night was left to brew tea and read, which she did almost every evening. For years, she had lived this life. She rarely interacted with other people outside of work and almost never travelled outside the city. The library and bookstore were the two places she frequented the most, to pick up new reading material and try out different genres. After a few hours of reading through a novel based on a true story, she set the book down and looked out of her window. She opened the door to her deck, allowing the cool night breeze to drift inside the room. Everything was calm, and yet…something seemed off. Rachel felt again something she hadn't experienced in a long time, but this time it wasn't just an intuition. It felt like…her…powers. She looked down at her palms, normal in appearance yet pulsating on the inside. She turned back to her kitchen, squeezing her eyes shut. She hadn't meditated, chanted those haunting three words in a long time, and yet…maybe it would benefit her to do it tonight. Just to calm everything down. She sat down on the couch, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. Her hands trembled as she formed Os with her fingers. She tried to stop the trembling, but it only grew worse. Rachel's eyes shot open as she pulled her palms back in, gazing at them again. They still looked normal, but she could definitely feel the pulsations now.

 _Clank._ Something metallic had embedded itself into her railing. Rachel stood up immediately and stared outside. She looked down at her hands and concentrated for a moment, closing her eyes. When she opened them, her hands were covered in dark energy. Creeping carefully, with one palm glowing with energy, Rachel approached the object and plucked it out. The moon shone on the deck as she examined it, turning it around in her hand. A black and blue hawk. The edges where the wings were were sharp enough to leave a sizeable dent in her railing. It was no doubt state-of-the-art technology, as the gadget barely had a scratch on it.

"Look familiar to you?" a voice beckoned from above. She turned and craned her head to spot a dark shadow on the rooftop. She could make out the figure's plain short haircut as well as a blue bird, the same design as the gadget, on his chest.

"You better have a good reason for ruining my deck," Rachel muttered. The figure hopped down, landing in direct light of the moonlight. He wore a domino-style mask, the one she had grown so used to seeing over the years. Slots, for batons she assumed, protruded out of his back. He gazed at her with an eerily knowing look.

"I came here to talk," he offered. She narrowed her eyes, ever so slightly backing away.

"You're trespassing," she said harshly.

"Call me Nightwing," he laughed softly. "But, you know me by something different."

"You've found the wrong person," she said bluntly. "I don't know who you are."

"But you do," he insisted. "You do."

"I don't."

"Raven."

"I don't know who that is," she growled, now becoming more hostile. "My name is Rachel."

"Don't do this to me, Rae," he pleaded as she turned around. "I'm here to help. To make things just a little better than before." He put a hand on her shoulder, attempting to turn her around.

"Get away from me!" she cried, slapping his hand off and backing up. A couple of her mugs shattered instantly, but she didn't care.

"Raven, please," he begged. "I'm not here to—"

"There's a reason I left," she replied, cutting him off. "Stop…trying to revive the past."

"So you admit it," he breathed.

"What do you want?" she demanded. The two were now standing in her living room, her arms folded and him stopping his advance.

"I wanted…to reconcile. Bring some closure to what happened."

"I need no closure. The things you speak of are from a past life," she snapped. "A life I moved on from."

"Please, Raven. Just hear me out, and if you don't like what you hear, I'll leave and you'll never see me again."

"It's Rachel. Raven is from a different time," she corrected. Sighing, she plopped down on the couch and folded her arms. "Make it quick."

"I guess I should start with myself," he began. "After everything that happened, I didn't want all of our work to just defray at once. But I knew I couldn't fight alone, and fighting as my old identity would only make me a bigger and easier target. I went back to Gotham, then traveled the world. Trained and sought out the world's deepest secrets. I was truly independent now. So I rebranded myself, cleaned up Jump for good, then travelled around again, helping out crime-ridden cities." He paused, then glanced at her. "Do you mind if…I have a cup of tea?"

"Sit tight, I'll grab it," she muttered, getting up. There was some lukewarm water left over in the kettle, and she tossed some leaves in the mug before pouring the rest of it in. She set it down in front of him, then returned to her position on the couch, arms folded once more.

"You didn't use your powers to make it," he noted.

"None of your business," she replied curtly. "Go on." He took a sip and nodded.

"Of course, nobody knew why their crime rates were declining or that no new problems were popping up," he continued. "I worked solely at night. Sometimes I'd be spotted. The closest I ever got was a blurry photo of this," he said, gesturing to the emblem on his chest. "I needed a day job. I couldn't just sit around in the alleys all day like a homeless man."

"So you became a cop," she finished, raising her eyebrows.

"Indeed I did," he confirmed. "I was already helping out crime. Why not just make it a 24/7 thing? I signed on with the local police department in the city I was working in at the time. Rose through the academy and the ranks quickly of course. Then there was an opening for the position here. I heard it's fairly rough, and the department really wanted me to take over. So here I am." He took another sip, then set the mug down and put his elbow on his thigh, gazing at her.

"Where are the others?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Cyborg is working with the Justice League now."

"And you're not?"

"I've decided I work best alone," he responded crisply. "Besides, someone's gotta take care of the lesser crime while they're off fighting whatever the hell superdemon monsters are threatening the Earth now."

"A savior for the people. Charming."

"Starfire returned to Tamaran. They needed her to establish order there after another war broke out. She hopes she can make it back to Earth occasionally, since it's looking like this will be a permanent stay."

"You must be devastated," she said, pursing her lips. "I seem to recall so as much, yes?"

"Thing of the past," he told her. "Everyone thinks irrationally as teenagers. Anyways, I'm not sure of Beast Boy's whereabouts. He tried to latch on again with the Doom Patrol, but it seems like him and Mento are destined to butt heads from now until the end of time. He might still be with them, or he might be wandering on his own."

"What about me?" she asked bemusedly. "Have you been keeping tabs on me as well?"

"You…did a very good job of what you promised to do," he admitted. "I searched, Raven. For years. I couldn't turn up anything. I kind of just gave up after a while…" he trailed off. "Crime was taking up the majority of my time. And I assumed you were taking care of yourself fine."

"So how did you find me?" she demanded, the slight edge back in her voice.

"First day on the job, gotta go through all the records, of course," he said, leaning back. "Found one Miss Rachel Roth in the city database. Purple hair and violet eyes? We're already off to a good start. Born, apparently, in Jump City. Very clever fake records. But I'd recognize my own work anywhere."

"You've told me everything," she said, twirling a strand of her hair. "Now why are you here?"

"It's been a long time," he breathed. He leaned in across the table, his serious look a contrast to her expressionless, yet still frigid demeanor. "Raven. The past is the past. You don't have to do this forever."

"Have you considered how I feel?" she asked, her voice hardening. "Maybe you can't imagine living life like this. But this is what I want. An ordinary life. Free from everything about the past, and with as little disturbance as possible."

"Rae," he murmured, gently taking her hand. He expected her to pull away, but for some reason she allowed him to keep it there. "You know no matter how long you keep this up, it won't change anything. Rather than keep covering it up, let's try to heal together."

"I'm not that naïve anymore, Grayson," she told him, then brushed his hand off of hers. "I won't fall down this slippery slope again. One thing leads to another, and soon I'm back where I got the most hurt."

"I'm willing to try," he pleaded. "Come with me. Times are different now. The world is a different place, and we've grown. I want to settle things. Make it so that neither of us have to live with this."

"I can't do this anymore," she said once again. "I don't want anything to do with the past. I learned things, I made friends, and I found a home. But now that home is gone and nothing's the same. You can't try to rebuild that. You'll just cause more damage."

"I'm not trying to rebuild everything we had before," he said. "I just want—" he continued as he stood up and sat down next to her, "to fix things between us," he finished, turning his head to look at her. She kept staring straight forward, while he waited for her response.

"I think we both know it wasn't meant to be," she laughed bitterly. "Cute idea. Especially as teenagers, when you don't know anything about the world. But it didn't work out, and that's that."

"I can accept that it didn't work out," he amended. "But I can't accept…the way it happened. That's the only reason why I'm here."

"It compromised our final mission and destroyed our trust in our friends and each other," she snapped. "I don't think it's a stretch to say that everything collapsed because of how close we were."

"We made mistakes. It was a different time. Being a hero is far different than being a normal person."

" _I'm_ trying to live the normal life," she corrected. "You're still avoiding real life with your vigilantism and connections to everyone else."

"I just want to say that what happened then…shouldn't be why you shut off everything," he murmured. "You don't know how much I've missed you since then." She paused and turned to look at him, her face a mixture of confusion and indignation.

"So you are here to rekindle," she growled, though there was uncertainty in her voice. "I'm not interested. Final answer."

"As I said. If you don't want to listen anymore, I'll show myself out," he said, gesturing to the still-open door to the deck. "But I know that you know it's not the right way. That deep down, you know that resolving this will help you."

"I. Don't. Need. Help," she stated coldly.

"Do you really enjoy this life?" he questioned. "Not seeing anyone, becoming almost a recluse, having your life be only about work and books? I know you, Raven. We have a bond. You don't really love this. It's just that your trust has been shattered by what happened long ago. But that's exactly it: it was _long ago._ "

"I don't know," she admitted. She turned and took a few steps onto the deck, and he joined behind her. "I thought everything was fine. Then you had to show up, butt your way into my life again." She didn't say it as an insult, rather as an amused comment, and he picked up on that immediately. "And now I'm confused once more. So thank you for that, I guess."

"I'm just asking you to trust once more," he said, standing next to her. "Put your faith back in what you once knew. I've been carrying the scars a long time too. The only thing I wanted to do, that was ever on my mind, was find you again. I knew you could help me. That we could help each other."

"What do you want me to do?" she said quietly. "I can't just start seeing you every day like we used to. We can't go out and pick up where we left off, and pretend that everything's gonna be okay."

"We don't need to do any of that. We just need to—talk. To get to know each other once again like we used to. And through that—" he paused and turned to her, "I think we'll be able to start something new."

"I'm not in this to be romantic again, Richard," she said sternly. "We'll try to rebuild what we lost. That's what I'm willing to do."

"Absolutely," he agreed. She nodded and turned her head to look at the moon.

"It's getting late. You should probably go fight criminals or whatever it was you were planning on doing."

"Raven."

"It's Rachel."

"Nope. You're still Raven to me, and you always will be," he said with a small smile.

"Fine," she conceded. "What?"

"Thank you. For trusting me."

"Mmm," she hummed. "I suppose I should thank you as well."

"No need. I'm only doing what I feel is right."

"You have this certain tendency," she said softly, drawing closer to him. "Actually, call it stubbornness. I suppose it's wholly and unbearably annoying at first. But, you tend to draw people in eventually. Which is good," she added. "I don't know where I would be…or where any of us would be, if you didn't persist in making us see your way."

"That wasn't it this time," he replied. "I just wanted to revisit an old friend. To make sure we could both fly properly, without carrying any more weight." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in, hugging her tightly. They shared the warm embrace for a few moments before breaking free and staring into each other's eyes.

"While we're on the topic of old times…" Rachel started. She reached up and peeled his mask off, then stared deep into his exposed eyes. She nodded after a moment, then put the mask back on.

"You didn't leave it off this time," he pointed out.

"I just needed a quick check," she responded. "Everything's still the same about you." She picked up the throwing star off the railing and handed it to him. "Do you want this part of your unnecessarily flashy entrance back?"

"Keep it," he chuckled. "I have plenty more. I'll make sure your deck gets fixed too."

"You had better," she muttered. He walked over to the railing and leapt up, his feet gingerly landing on top of the metal.

"I do need to go on now. But we'll be in touch," he promised.

"Indeed, we will," she murmured. He gave her one last smile before leaping into the night, and she responded with a small wave as he departed. She looked at the metallic bird in her palm, the black and blue paint mimicking the night itself. Turning it over, she found a small engraving in the back of the gadget. Two words, imprinted in the middle.

 _For Raven._

* * *

 **Wrote part of this on a small notepad while I was in the middle of the wilderness for a week. Finished it because I have nothing better to do on Friday nights. I don't really like this story in its current form at all...but y'all can let me know what you think. Hope you enjoyed!**


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